


Would-be King

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: How Gladio got his first scar. Has some slight spoilers for the beginning of the Kingsglaive movie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have the supplementary materials for FFXV, so I only know the bare bones on why Gladio has that scar down the side of his face at the beginning of the game. This is my way of filling in the blanks.

In the end, it had been inevitable. The radio was broadcasting the news all over the city of Insomnia for some time—The treaty proposed by Niflheim was dependent on Lucis giving up all claims to the lands outside the capital city. No one could confirm what the King and his Council would decide, but a divide was already growing among those refugees whose lands were now in an uncertain limbo. Glaives were still being deployed, which assuaged some fears, but there was an undercurrent of discontent that was starting to bubble to the surface.

Noctis, crown prince of Lucis, was not always the best reader of the tides.

He’d gone out with friends to one of his favorite all-night diners, talking quietly over fried dough and toxic-looking drinks. After a while, most of his companions had drifted away for the night, but Noct had never been one for going to bed at a decent time. He stayed back, and Gladiolus Amicitia, sworn shield to the future king, was duty bound to stay with him. 

Not that he necessarily minded. Yet something wasn’t right, that evening. The fellow patrons were quiet, shifting around the prince’s table in a wide berth. A few tables down, a group of people were talking in loud, sharp bursts, like a stuttering dam about to break. Gladio brought up the idea of going home once or twice, but Noct was in one of his people-watching moods and couldn’t be budged.

It didn’t take long for the men at the other table to recognize the prince.

“Hey.”

One of them had stumbled forward, unsteady on his feet. He had the look of a man from one of the Northern territories, and he was looking at Noct with what could have been either a sneer or a poorly executed smile. Noct looked up.

“Hey,” the man said, again. “You the prince?”

“Shit,” Gladio mumbled, under his breath. He gestured to Noct, using a signal to retreat, but Noct wasn’t paying attention. He shrugged at the man in a silent confirmation.

The man squinted. “So you’re the pompous little shit whose spineless daddy,” He spat, making a woman nearby exclaim, “is gonna give our lands to the Empire?”

“I don’t know what he’s going to do,” said Noctis, proving to Gladio that he had a supremely stunning degree of tactlessness. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to insult the king in front of his son. Just a thought.”

“Just a thought,” the man repeated, looking around him. “Just a thought! Thinks himself a wit, does he.”

“Not really,” said Noct. “You should probably go home before you hurt yourself.” 

“You think?” Something dark twisted behind the man’s eyes. “You think I can just go home, after your daddy lets the Empire have its way with it? You think any of us can go home?”

Noct’s eyes widened, but before he could open his mouth to respond, several things happened at once.

The drunk man reached out to grab a bottle from the edge of the table. Quick as a flash, the bottle was a shattered mess of shards, gripped tight in the man’s trembling hands. He was too close to Noct already, and even as Noct moved to rise and step out of the way, the edge of the bottle was swung down in a short, precise arc. And then Gladio was there, his broad back a shadow in front of the prince. 

The glass made a sickening, silken sound as it tore a line down Gladio’s face.

“The hell?” Noct tried to step around Gladio, but his friend gripped him forcibly by the shoulder and shoved him back. Blood trickled down the left side of his face, a grotesque mask that caused even his attacker to retreat a step. 

They made an interesting image in the light of the diner: Noct, coiled with tense energy, Gladio covered in blood, unarmed, holding the prince with a hand as steady as stone. And before them, staggering slightly, the drunk with a crushed bottle and a draining pool of rage.

“You should go,” Gladio said. His voice was calm, almost kind. “Sleep off that hangover you have coming.”

“He didn’t mean nothing by it,” said a man, who was gently pulling the drunk back by the arm.

“I’m sure he didn’t,” said Gladio.

His hand stayed firm on Noct’s shoulder until the drunk had been swallowed by the crowd. When he finally let go, Noct was looking at him with a strange, distant expression. 

“Stupid way to lose an eye,” he said. Gladio huffed.

“The eye’s fine." 

“You could have blocked it.” There was an edge to the prince’s voice, but Gladio was too tired to consider it.

“Sure,” he said. “And I could’ve broken his arm in the process. He’s a crown citizen, even if he’s an asshole. Better to take a hit than resort to that.”

There was something in the way Noct was looking at him that unsettled Gladio. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It wasn’t detached, more… thoughtful. His chin slightly lifted, his brows knit, the way his eyes seemed to look through him, into him… Gladio realized he had unconsciously shifted to attention. Then it struck him. Looking like this, in this light, with his jaw clenched just so, Gladio could see the shadow of King Regis in the prince’s face. The thought was disturbing, and Gladio turned aside.

“Better get this looked at now,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

Noct followed a step behind him, silent, his footsteps soft on the concrete. Gladio couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever he’d seen in Noctis then was still there, at his back, and the knowledge of that sent a thrill of something like fear up his spine. 

“You did the right thing,” said the prince. 

Gladio hesitated for one brief, agonizing moment. He took a breath and smoothed his hands on his jacket. Above them, the magical barrier flickered and rippled against the night sky. Then the prince and his shield continued their slow, silent walk back to the car.


End file.
